I Killed You
by LiztheNinja
Summary: A slightly rambling first person fic, unfinished, about Sirius in Azkaban. Starts from his first night in there after Lily and James' deaths. Rated for language. Updated slightly 10.16.07


_There is a man sitting in a dark, cold cell. He is very handsome, untouched as of yet by the horrors of the prison. He is curled into a ball in a far corner of the cell, chin resting on his knees. His gray eyes stare blankly into space; they are filled with hatred and anger, those eyes, but also with sorrow and helplessness. His hands are clenched into tight fists, and his lip is bleeding from him biting on it so hard._

_He has already given up on trying to get out. The bars keeping him in are relentless and will not give. The walls are solid enough to keep an elephant inside. There is no way out._

_A woman screams from the cell beside him. They are insane screams that plead for someone to listen to her innocence. She is not innocent. None of them are innocent. Even the ones who have committed no crime are guilty here._

_There is no light in the cell. There is nothing at all in the cell, except for the man and his thoughts._

This wasn't supposed to happen! Fuck it all, it wasn't supposed to be like this! I swear, Prongs, James, I swear, I didn't want this to happen! It's my fault, I know it's my fault. I can't handle the fact that it's my fault, that I killed you. I killed you, I killed Lily. I nearly killed your son.

Merlin, I hate myself.

James, I am so sorry. I didn't know Peter was a damn traitor. None of us knew. Innocent, sweet, weak, tagalong little Wormtail. How could he be the spy? I was the obvious choice, Voldemort was sure to go after me. Peter was the idiot, the weakling. Who would choose Peter?

But who would suspect him?

James, I was such an idiot. I should have known that the fucker was a spy, I should have known that he was the traitor. I should have known! I should have figured it out.

Now I'm stuck in Azkaban and Remus thinks I betrayed him and killed you, Lily and Peter. How could I? I would rather die than betray you, you knew that, didn't you? Remus should know that. I'd rather die than betray either of you. Peter can rot in hell now for all I care. How could I not have seen that he was the traitor?

What am I going to do now? I'm in Azkaban for a murder I tried to commit. I tried, James, I did. I tried to catch him. I keep seeing that smirk he gave me as he cut off his finger. Fuck!

They all think I killed him. Everyone thinks I did, even Remus. The _world_ thinks Sirius Black killed Peter Pettigrew and sold James and Lily Potter to Lord Voldemort. The world thinks that Sirius Black killed those innocent people. The world thinks that Sirius Black is the most disgusting being in the universe. The world is right on only one count.

I am the most disgusting and horrible and wretched being in the universe.

It's not just the dementors that make me think that, either. I thought that the entire way here, escorted by the Aurors. They were people we knew, James. There were Order members there, bringing me in. Do you know how much they hate me, James? They despise me, place me lower in the world than Snivellus was to us. The hatred in their eyes…

I deserve it all. I deserve all of this: Azkaban, the dementors, the misery. It's all just punishment for what I did. There is nothing worse than betraying one's friends, nothing in the world. I've committed the single worst crime one can think of.

I didn't mean to laugh, James. I didn't, really. It just…came out. Peter had cut off his finger and transformed after killing all those helpless people. Thirteen people he killed, James. Peter Pettigrew, _our_ little Peter Pettigrew, killed thirteen innocent muggles without blinking an eye before transforming and leaving me to deal with it all.

But I couldn't. I couldn't deal with it, James. You had gone, and Lily, and I had failed in my attempt to redeem myself by catching him. I was being blamed for sixteen deaths, including the deaths of a traitor and my best friend. I had to laugh, I had to. If I hadn't, I think I might have just broken down and died right there. But Peter's still alive, and Remus doesn't know the truth. Someone needs to tell him and someone needs to kill the fucking bastard.

No one listens to me. No one. The other prisoners just stare at me, and they have this look in their eyes. They're just empty, James. They're empty shells. Is that going to be me, am I going to just rot from the inside out?

Oh Merlin, please let that not be me. I don't want to die like that. I can't die at all, not until I find Peter and kill that little bastard. I don't think I'll get the chance, James. Forgive me that much, at least. The guards are not forgiving people. They ignore all the screams, and trust me, there are many of them. A lot of them come from the cell next to me; the person in there has not been in there very long, and already she's going insane. I suppose it would be a welcome change, to become insane. At least then I wouldn't have to think like this. I wouldn't have to know each and every moment of each and every day that I'm a traitor and that I killed my best friend and that my other best friend thinks I'm a murderer.

They don't hear my screams, James. They don't listen to them. None of them care that I'm innocent. With Father having a hand in the Ministry, I'm sure that they're ignoring all of my pleas. Besides that, who would believe that _Peter Pettigrew_ sold you and Lily to Voldemort? Much more likely that James' best friend, James' near-brother Sirius Black did it. It's much more likely.

Why couldn't the bastard have killed me too? Why those innocents and not me? Why be so cruel as to leave me in the middle of such a mess, my best friend dead and the other thinking me a traitor? Easier for me to simply die and be done with it. Just like insanity; I'd no longer have to live with this.

Hagrid was there. At your house. He was there before me. Had orders from Dumbledore to bring Harry somewhere. He looked so much like you, I nearly broke down right there. I asked Hagrid for him, cause that was what you'd said you'd wanted. You wanted Harry to go with me if anything happened. Hagrid said it was Dumbledore's orders. He looked exactly like you, like you with Lily's eyes.

I gave him my motorbike, James. I gave Hagrid my motorbike so I could go chase after Peter. Even after I knew he was a fucking traitor, I gave things up for him. He doesn't know how good he had it, does he? He doesn't know what being a Marauder means. Being a Marauder means being family, being Pack. Pack does not betray Pack.

James, I can't take this! Remus must be miserable, more miserable than me. He thinks that you and Peter are dead and that I killed you both. I wish he could come, I wish he were here now. But he'd never be allowed to visit, I'm a mass murderer. He'd never want to visit.

I can't stay awake anymore, James. I can't. The screams are everywhere; they're driving me insane. I welcome the insanity.

_The man attempts to close his eyes, but a shrill, wordless scream pierces through his mind and he jumps, his eyes darting open. It is not the woman next door; she has quieted herself to moans and sobs for the moment. Confused, he closes his eyes once more. Once more, a voice pierces through him:_

_**"Lily, go! Take Harry and run!" **__He jumps to his feet at this voice, looking around hurriedly, his eyes wide and hopeful. There is no one there. He settles back down and attempts to sleep again._

_**Another scream. Then-**_

"_**Lily and James, Sirius!" the voice cries, breaking and cracking believingly. The traitor, the traitor trying to blame it all on him. "Lily and James! How could you?" Then the smirk surrounded by an explosion, screams. Laughter comes next, echoing in his bones. It is cruel laughter, and he recognizes the bark-like quality to it.**__ His eyes jump open once more._

It's not working. I can't close my eyes, James. When I try, I hear it. I hear it all, even though I wasn't there. I hear you yelling, hear Lily's screams. Then I hear the muggles and Peter shouting about how I'd killed you. There's the laughter, my laughter.

That bastard blamed it all on me. In the middle of that crowd, the fucking little bastard had the nerve to blame his treachery, his weakness, his betrayal on me before killing and running. Not a word came from him that wasn't wild and believable, that didn't sound like he was stricken with grief and shock.

I can't believe it, I just can't. You can't really be gone, Peter can't really have turned like that. I can't really be sitting in this cell, certain that I'll never see the light of day unclouded by the guards again. It's so cold here, James. It's the guards, the dementors. They're sucking everything away, everything good that I ever thought or felt. It's all gone now, and I'm sure it will never come back. I don't deserve the happiness they took from me.

_The guards that the man muses about are everywhere, swarming all over any speck of happiness that one of their prisoners might conjure out of the darkness. One of them swoops past his cell, but pauses and turns back towards him. Something happens, a subtle change happens in the air. It is colder than before; goosebumps raise on the man's skin. The dementor is in the cell with him, and he has nowhere to run to. He attempts to scramble backwards, but the unforgiving wall is at his back._

_There is nothing inside the man now, nothing but fear. The dementor leans down to him, and the man flinches into a ball, a flash of the mouth inside the hood having been shown to him. _

_He also flinches from the sounds he hears, the sounds only his is tormented by. The traitor's pleas, the traitor's voice. The screams of muggles who see the destruction the traitor caused, the sound of thirteen bodies collapsing._

_The guard stays there for what seems like hours, the terror inside the man gnawing at him as the last scraps of anything good are sucked from the prisoner. When finished feeding on the man, the dementor leaves. The man lets out a whimper, a moan._

I'm sorry James, I'm sorry. I could've gotten there sooner, I could've stopped him if I'd tried harder. I wish I'd done better, I wish I could've gotten to you sooner. Maybe if I hadn't been so slow, you would still be here and I wouldn't be in this cell. Or maybe I would have died, but at least I would have died protecting you and your family. Better a death defending you than this cold cell.

What about Remus, James? If he were here, if he could come…Even if he could come, I don't think he'd every want to see me again. Not after what I did. I'd never want to see me again either. I'd want to kill me for killing my best friends.

_The dementor's presence had stolen the last dredges of hope from him, the last thread of hope that kept him from believing he was indeed the murderer._

I killed my best friends. I killed you, I killed Lily. I killed all of those muggles. James, I killed them! James, I'm a fucking murderer!

_"SHUT THE HELL UP!"_

_The man is startled from his thoughts. The one in the cell across from his glares at him ferociously, crouching animal-like in his own cell. The man realizes that he has been thinking aloud._

_He says nothing, and ignores the one across from him. He hears something from outside his cell and prays that it is not a dementor, back for more of what he no longer has. But he is a traitor in his own mind, a prisoner behind bars. His prayers are not answered. The dementor glides past his cell without another move towards him._

_There is nothing left in him for it to feed on._

_There is, however, enough left in him to torture him._

_A memory swells in his brain, forcing itself to be relived. __**The building, burning, smoke billowing out of it. There was no Dark Mark above it, though, and hope surged through him as he urged the motorbike faster. Maybe, maybe they were alive.**_

_**  
He knew that they aren't.**_

_**That doesn't stop him from hoping, though, and he revs the engine, yelling as the thing refuses to go faster.**_

"_**Fuck!"**_

_**It seems like he can not get there fast enough even if he Apparates. But finally, the bike touches down in front of the building, the burning building, and he runs inside.**_

"_**Prongs!" he screams, darting through the hallway. "James!" He trips over something and turns to see what it is.**_

_**Vomit rises in his throat.**_

"_**James…" he croaks, collapsing to his knees.**_

_**No. No, it could not be. His best friend, James Potter, **_**his**_** James Potter, could not possibly be dead.**_

_The dementor swoops away and the man gasps for breath. He is filled with cold, nothing but cold and the certainty that the dementors ultimately leave their prisoners with. The certainty that they are guilty and that there is no way out of their hell._

_His breath still came quick and gasping even after the dementor had swooped away._

James?

_It could not be. The man peered closer into the darkness, shrinking away at the same time._

It can't be you, it can't be.

_The apparition did not move. It simply looked at him in that James Potter way, his hazel eyes soft and a slight smirk on his lips._

_The man's eyes are wide and terrified, but somewhere there is joy._

James!

_But the spark of hope is short-lived; another guard feels it and flies close to feed._

James, help me…

_But the apparition is gone and only the dementor is left in his cell, forcing him to relive it all again as the last ounce of joy is sucked out of his bones._

_Even when the dementor glides away, satisfied with its meal, its presence still remains._

_**James' dead hazel eyes stare up at him as he shakes his shoulders. There is no life in them, not the flicker that he knew so well. No laughter, no mischief. James' eyes are vacant and dead; the James he knew was no longer there.**_

"_**No!"**_

No!

_The man buries his face in his knees. Tears still have not escaped him, not once. True, he has tried as hard as possible to keep them inside not out, but now, when he no longer cares, they do not come. Tears have never come easily to him, never has he cried in another's presence willingly. James had cried, Remus had cried, Peter had cried. Never this man. He is the tough one, the one who stays strong for the others. He can't allow that part of him to waver, especially not now._

James, I can't stand this place. I can't.

_A small whimper escapes him as the dementor glides the opposite way. It is agitated, something is going on in one of the cells near the man's. He doesn't care to find out what it is. He only wishes that the dementor would stop passing by his cell. With each soundless passing, another piece of him is broken off and fed upon, another horrible memory is shoved in front of his face for him to savor._

_He stays in his dark corner motionless, knees tucked tightly to his chest. He places his chin back on his knees and his gray eyes continue to stare wide and blank out the door of his cell. The animal-like one in the cell opposite him has begun to pace; it is to the sound of his odd steps that the man's eyes force themselves shut after long minutes of remaining motionless._

_The man wakes. He is not sure if it is morning or night; his cell is still dark. He still has not moved, his gray eyes are still dry._

Is it true?

Am I really sitting here?

It's so cold…

James, where are you? Why is it so cold?

_It is obvious that he is startled to find himself in the cell; he looks around, bewildered._

But no, it can't be true. It can't be, James. You can't be dead. It must all be just a nightmare, just one of my nightmares. You know how I get them so often, always did. Ever since I was a kid.

_There it was. A small shred of impossible hope. No matter how implausible it was, still it was there._

It's just one of my nightmares, James. Soon I'll wake up. Soon.

Right?

Won't I?

_A dementor was coming closer, and the certainty that all of it was simply a bad dream ebbed away. It did not just pass by his cell either; it felt the light of the implausible hope and greedily flew to the helpless man, intent on sucking away the happiness._

_**This time he was at his parents' house. Father was standing in front of him, wand raised, voice loud and angry. Father was shouting, shouting curses, causing him pain, but he stood firm. One curse in particular stood out from the others.**_

"_**CRUCIO!"**_

_**The pain, the unimaginable pain overwhelmed him and he felt himself crash to the floor, curled into a tight ball, a scream tearing from his throat.**_

_The dementor swooped away, content with what it had gotten._

I didn't mean to kill you, James. I didn't.

I didn't mean to kill Lily either. Honest.

Why didn't we tell Remus, James? Why? He would have known, he would have. I know he would have. Remus is smart, smarter than me. Not a traitor like me.

_The man no longer wants to live, no longer wants to feel. He forces his eyes closed, forces his ears closed to the scenes that echo in his head._

_  
_All I want is sleep…

_And sleep is what he gets. The man spends much of his time trying to sleep, for in his sleep he obtains an escape from the dementors and the cold despair and loneliness that is now his life._

_However, in his sleep, the nightmares plague him. Not unusual, the nightmares, for he has long since learned to sleep through them. And though they are terrifying, though they make him wake with a scream tearing at his throat each night, he finds solace in them._

_The man always sleeps in that single corner; in fact, he rarely moves at all. When he does move, his muscles cramp uncomfortably. Not incentive to move more often._

_The man is sleeping now, but it is a sleep that is far from peaceful. He is thrashing about and biting down hard on his lip, as he is prone to do when agitated in any way. Every few minutes, a muttered curse will escape him._

_**He is back in the Shrieking Shack. He is not alone, no; the dog-mind puts his nose to the air and sniffs out three others. A deer, right behind him, smelling half of the forest and half of old Dungbombs. A rat, perched on the deer's back, smelling half of the kitchens and half of fear. And one more, in front of him. This is a confused smell, and it bewilders the dog-mind. This presence smells like Remus, it is the Pack member smell of books and tea that he knows so well. But the sharp undertone that usually accompanies this smell is stronger, and fighting the other, more comfortable smell as the boy transforms.**_

_**The dog whines, watching with wide eyes the painful transformation of his Pack, of his friend. The deer nudges his back with his nose comfortingly. The dog cannot tear his eyes away from the scene before him, and another whine comes form his throat. He can hear the deer utter a sound equivalent to his whine and knows that he is not the only one worried.**_

_**Later, it seems like an eternity later but is only a few minutes, the now-wolf, the sharp smell, growls and rushes at the dog. The dog can hear the deer scramble away and he yelps as the wolf's claws hit him.**_

"_**L- L- Lily and J- James, S- Sirius!"**_

_**The dog is pinned to the floor of the Shrieking Shack by the wolf and he whines. **_

"_**How could you?"**_

_**The wolf snarls at him, snaps at him.**_

"_**H- How c- c- could you?"**_

_**The dog tries to wriggle away, but is unsuccessful. The wolf succeeds in drawing blood and a pained whine escapes the dog's throat. He looks upside down and sees the deer and the rat, standing there, watching.**_

"_**J- James is dead now!"**_

_**The dog stops fighting. The wolf does not.**_

"_**You killed my best friends." This was not the whiney voice of before. The dog was confused.**_

"_**You killed them both." The dog now realizes whose the voice is. It belongs to the one that smells like books and tea, the one with the sharper scent underneath.**_

_**The dog whines, asking forgiveness.**_

"_**Why should I ever forgive you, Traitor?"**_

_**The dog does not know.**_

_**The wolf scratches at him, drawing another thin line of blood, angry at the lack of response.**_

"_**Answer me!"**_

_**The dog cannot remember a time that this voice had ever been raised at him like that. It had yelled before, but there was never the pissed off tone that was in it now.**_

_**The dog cannot speak, cannot plead. He whines again, beseeching forgiveness.**_

_**"I will never forgive you, know that now." **_

_**The dog's eyes widen in disbelief and devastation. His body is now limp and unafraid of the wolf who has drawn his blood. Now that he has been disowned by the only person he could now consider family, Pack, there is no point in living.**_

**(continue dream sequence)**

When the man wakes, it is with a gasp and a short yell. It does not take him long to realize where he is and why he is there. He sits himself upright in his corner once more, shivering uncontrollably.


End file.
